“The other one is a disgrace, Ike; it looks like a saloon. Well, I’ve got to go back and rehearse.”
“Rehearse?”
“Shore. I’m one of the Three Wise Men.”
“Who’r the other two?”
“Magpie and Tellurium Woods.”
“Yeah, you better go back and rehearse, Dirty Shirt. You three jiggers will shore need a lot of rehearsin’ for a job like that.”
“The Cross J quartette will sing. And Bill Thatcher’s orchestry will render plenty.”
“Well, that isn’t anythin’ to git excited about. There’s a lot of things I’d rather hear than Telescope Tolliver, Muley Bowles, Chuck Warner and Henry Clay Peck singin’. They’re awful, but they ain’t as bad as Thatcher’s orchestra, accordion, bull fiddle and a jew’s-harp, playin’ ‘Sweet Marie’. I ain’t finicky about m’ music either.”
“The rest of it’ll be good, Ike. It’s a specktickle. Livin’ pitchers, as you might say. Well, I’ve got to go back. We’re puttin’ the autymobile up into the Mint Hall, and we’ve got to cut out the side of the wall at the top of the stairs. We’ll elevate the machine up on a couple saw horses, where everybody can look her over. Goin’ to run her up on planks, with a block and fall.”
It shore was a good lookin’ machine, all fancy with shiny paint and brass dinguses. We never had but one other machine in Piperock, and somebody put dynamite under that one. Yaller Rock County is a horse country.